


Onus

by God_of_Insanity



Series: Dark Hearts: Of Men & Monsters [3]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Big surprise right?, Bottom Sephiroth, Cults, Depression, F/M, Human Sacrifice, M/F, M/M, Mentioned Character Death, Multi, Neglect, OC's - Freeform, Obsessive Love, Rape/Non-con Elements, Resurrection, Rimming, Rough Sex, Sort of Kind of, Stockholm Syndrome, Threesome - F/M/M, Vincent has issues, Vincent is a recluse, Vincent is kind of well CRAZY sort of, Yandere Vincent Valentine, dark themes, m/m - Freeform, minor deaths, top vincent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-08-18 09:10:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8156845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/God_of_Insanity/pseuds/God_of_Insanity
Summary: While out wandering the wilderness, Vincent discovers tracks that lead him to the temple of the Revenant, where he discovers the source of his obsession.





	1. Darkness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [obsidians](https://archiveofourown.org/users/obsidians/gifts).



> This is a dark, angsty ride. LOOK AT THE TAGS. Don’t like, don’t read.
> 
> This is for you, Sid. I hope you like it. I tried.

Metal boots crunched in the snow of a perpetually white wasteland devoid of life, save for a random creature huddled in on itself in a den or hole attempting to keep warm during the long, cruel winter. Though the sun was out, layers of clouds stubbornly blocked its rays from providing any warmth or comfort to the forest inhabitants. A majority of the barren trees were tall and dark, adding a stark, bleak contrast to the snow that seemed to mercilessly blanket everything. Strips of bark had been eaten and carved away by the teeth and antlers of animals. Silent was the forest except for the occasional chirp of a bird high up in the trees, or the sound of a rabbit attempting to flee from a predator.

The golden boots stopped abruptly in their path at the sound of what sounded like a child screaming. A pale face looked over his own shoulder, crimson eyes scanning quickly for the source of the sound. Said sharp eyes caught the sight of a wolf trotting away with a white, bloodied rabbit in its maw. Dry, cracked lips sighed, releasing steam into the frigid air before the boots resumed their trek towards their original destination.

An unforgiving wind began blowing at his back, whipping his crimson coat and dark hair all around him as he walked. He remained unaffected by this or even more strangely, by the severe drop in temperature. On a normal human, his present attire wouldn’t have sufficed in such a challenging, miserable environment such as this. Had he been a normal human, he would have been dead within an hour, if not less.

Today officially marked the thirtieth anniversary of his isolation from the world. Funny how thirty years seemed to be the magic number for him. Unlike last time, this time he didn’t spend thirty years in a box meant for the dead in some decrepit, old mansion. This time, he wasn’t trying to atone for his sin, or for anything, really. He was out here, all alone, without company for many years simply because…he didn’t belong anywhere.

The ex-Turk lived out in the wilderness far from civilization, in a small house he had built himself after deserting his apartment, job, and friends. He could have bought a house since he had generated enough gil over time, but he chose not to because he didn’t want anyone to know where he lived. Instead, he stocked up on the supplies he needed and kept the rest of his money somewhere safe. Unlike most humans, he didn’t eat much, didn’t require much of anything. If he really needed food, he could hunt and dress his kill for himself. Since he didn’t consume much, he usually turned the meat into jerky. He had his own generator, but rarely chose to use it unless he deemed it absolutely necessary. Most of the time, if he wanted light at night, he lit some candles or the fireplace. It was not the most glamourous place or the most exciting life, but it was secluded and peaceful for the most part, and well…it was bigger than a coffin.

As he walked, he scanned his memory for the people he used to know years ago. The people that had been his friends, his comrades. It seemed like just yesterday since he had last seen them, yet at the same time, it seemed like a thousand years ago. Last he had seen of Cloud; the blond had settled down by marrying some nice country girl that reminded him somewhat of Aerith. The girl, whatever her name was, Vincent didn’t remember, even popped out a few kids for Cloud. The blond’s relationship with Tifa hadn’t worked out and the two had decided to remain friends. Last he remembered, Tifa had been running Seventh Heaven while dating one of the Turks…Rude, he thought his name was.

At the time, it seemed like everyone was getting married or involved in some sort of committed relationship. Tseng had ended up marrying Elena and even that red-head Reno had eventually matured by entering into a committed relationship with someone. Last he heard, though, Rufus Shinra was still a swinging bachelor with a string of girlfriends. Barret, on the other hand, seemed too occupied rebuilding the world and caring for his daughter to be concerned with anything else. The gunman also suspected Barret still missed his deceased wife and couldn’t bear replacing her with anyone else.  As for Reeve…Reeve was Reeve. He seemed happy enough running the W.R.O. and probably spent his free time tinkering in his office for countless hours.

On several occasions, Vincent had spotted Nanaki trailing after a female of his species like an enamored puppy. He recalled once telling the lonely beast that Nanaki might have children of his own someday, ending his loneliness. With the way he shamelessly chased after that female, the gunman wouldn’t be surprised if Nanaki was a father by now. The thought of Nanaki being chased and pounced on by his own cubs brought a faint smile to the ex-Turk’s pale face.

At one point, Yuffie had attempted to initiate some type of relationship with Vincent, but he had ignored her attempts. The girl ( _no doubt an old woman by now_ ) was too much of a little sister to him. Not to mention, any thoughts of sex or a romantic relationship with any women or men failed to spark any interest in the gunman. Whatever desire he had once had, had died many years ago with Lucrecia. As for Yuffie, eventually the girl had moved on and surprisingly, had chosen Cid and even had gone so far by marrying the older man. Ah… _Cid_. Now he remembered. Cid had died thirty years ago to this day, from fighting lung cancer, of all things. Vincent distinctly recalled Barret once joking by saying that Cid’s nasty habit of chain smoking would kill him someday. He clearly remembered it and so had Cid because the moment Cid had been diagnosed with the cancer, the airman had remarked that it was Barret, not Cait Sith, that was the true Fortuneteller. He had meant it as a joke in an attempt to lighten the mood, but no one had laughed.

Cid’s death had been the last straw for Vincent. For years, he had existed as a specter, doing whatever needed to be done when the need arose and then going back to his small, cramped apartment to brood over the same, tired old things. Everyone around him was living, was moving on from the past into something better and brighter. They all were looking to the future while putting the pain of their pasts behind them like it didn’t matter anymore. Maybe for them, it didn’t matter, but for Vincent, it was all that mattered. After awhile, their happiness grated on his nerves to the point he kept to himself more and more until the day Cid passed away. Cid dying fueled him to leave everything behind to live out on his own, away from his friends. It was selfish of him, but the bitter ex-Turk couldn’t bear to see them age and die, one by one, until they were all gone. Even Nanaki, with his long lifespan, would ultimately perish, too, in the end. Vincent wanted, no, _needed_ to remember them always as young and vibrant, not old and fading.

So Vincent left, taking only what was necessary while leaving everything else behind. He wasn’t cruel enough to depart forever without leaving some sort of word for his friends. The gunman had left a note bidding farewell to his friends and instructing them that he was fine, just needed to leave, and for them not to look for him. It probably wasn’t the best way to go about it, but it was the easiest way for Vincent. Unfortunately, this meant breaking his promise to Nanaki, which he wasn’t proud of doing, but it had to be done. In time, they would all die most likely from natural causes and would forget him. The dark-haired man, on the other hand, would never forget. His memory might fade some, but he would never forget his friends, Lucrecia, or his biggest regret…

His regret. Yes, _that_. Even after all these years, the guilt still burned like molten lead in his blood. He had spent many years lamenting over Lucrecia and his failure to save her and her unborn child. Many of those years had been spent in that coffin and in his apartment. To be truthful, he barely remembered what the woman looked like anymore since he had no pictures of her and at some point, her crystal prison had been _destroyed_ , somehow. Her eternal torment had not been so eternal, after all. In a way, he was grateful since she didn’t have to suffer anymore, yet a part of him felt resentful since she was truly gone now and didn’t have to linger behind like he did.

In his house, deep in the forest, however, he had spent his years brooding over something else that was not his unrequited love. It had been something related to Lucrecia, but not quite about her. It had been…

**_You truly are pathetic, Host. What is dead, is dead…_ **

_Sephiroth_. It had been Sephiroth. What was more surprising was that the only time Chaos ever stirred was whenever Vincent thought about the deceased ex-General. For whatever reasons, the demon was especially bothered by this particular train of thought, yet never bothered to explained why. The demon seemed almost angry whenever Vincent brooded over Sephiroth and his pathetic failure to save the boy. He had tried, _once_ , but had given up soon after being transformed into the pitiable monster he undoubtedly was. Instead of helping Sephiroth, he had resigned himself to sleeping in a coffin tormented by years of nightmares in an effort to atone. Atone… _hah_. He had been deluded to think that sleeping in a coffin, doing absolutely nothing, was atonement. All he had really done was allow the experiments to continue on Sephiroth until the young man had inevitably snapped. And because of this, Sephiroth had been slain. The poor man, Lucrecia’s beautiful son, was long dead and gone. Forever a memory, haunting him with the sheer guilt of his selfish, wretched inaction…

**_Finally, you are making some sense. Or were. Now you’re just being stupid again, Host…_ **

“Shut up,” croaked Vincent, speaking for the first time in thirty years. His voice was raspy and uneven from years of disuse, which caused him to scowl at the unpleasant sound of it. He clenched his hands into tight fists that shook from rage brewed from the demon’s taunts. When Chaos chose to remain silent, the gunman unclenched his hands and shakily sighed. He was still tense and angry as he trekked through the forest with no particular destination in mind. Whenever he got too restless with his thoughts, he wandered for hours, sometimes days before he returned back to his home. Since he had done this for a few decades already, it was nearly impossible for him to get himself lost unless he wandered somewhere unknown. It was peaceful, really, to wander aimlessly with no goal in mind through a labyrinth of trees and bushes. There were no buses, no cars, and no people creating a cacophony of never-ending, maddening noise. All there was for Vincent to mind here was nature itself and he found he did not mind it at all.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Perched high in a tree, Vincent scanned the horizon and noted that the sun was beginning to set. Night would be upon him soon, giving him a scarce amount of time to partake in his usual ritual. For whatever reason, around this time, he always holed himself up somewhere relatively safe to gaze at the same picture until night fell.

Reaching into one of his pockets, the gunman retrieved a laminated photograph. Holding it in his left hand, he reverently touched the picture, its image burned into his retinas. Although it was in black and white, and didn’t have the best resolution, he could clearly imagine the glowing green eyes and that long, glimmering gunmetal hair. He had other pictures, of course, some even with color, but this picture was his favorite. It, along with other photographs, had been taken by a Shinra security camera just an hour before the ex-General had killed President Shinra. It was his favorite because…out of all the pictures, it was the only one that showed any expression at all on that flawless, stoic face.

In that photo, Sephiroth was looking up almost directly at the camera with a beseeching, melancholic expression that made Vincent want to weep and to howl at the same time. He looked so young, so lost, and so torn as if he were marching to his own death. In a way, he had been, now that Vincent thought about it. There had been such hopelessness and despair etched into that fair face that it always caused the gunman’s chest to clench whenever he looked at it. Guilt always reared its ugly head, mocking and blaming him for the death of this beautiful creature. What had been done to Vincent was terrible, but what had been done to Sephiroth had been much worse. In some ways, the ex-Turk was to blame for this atrocity, this sorrow. Instead of getting off his ass to save the boy, he had resigned Sephiroth to his own cruel fate by locking himself away in his coffin to atone for his Sin.

 _His sin, indeed_. If Vincent could go back in time, he’d smack himself for his uselessness and stupidity. Because of his self-pity, he had done nothing to save Lucrecia, or her son. He had believed he had been too late to save her, but had not truly known. He could have tried again…he could have taken Sephiroth, shot Hojo in the face, and fled someplace safe. Whether it proved successful or not, the ex-Turk could have done any number of things to change the outcome. Maybe if he had…Sephiroth wouldn’t have had to endure such agony, such insanity at the hands of his father and Jenova. If he had rescued him, the boy would be here with him now and neither would be alone.

It was torturous to gaze at this photograph almost every day for thirty years knowing he had failed and that there was nothing he could do now. Sephiroth was long gone and dead, a bitter memory lingering in the hearts and minds of some. Many seemed to have already forgotten or merely chose not to dwell on the past since such a thing only brought about misery and pain. Despite this, Vincent refused to let go, to forget the memory of Sephiroth. As bad as it had been, he did not want to forget the son of Lucrecia…or the champion of Jenova. Though he was deceased, the crimson-eyed gunman refused to let him fade away, to die completely. For as long as he walked the Planet, Vincent Valentine was determined to keep Sephiroth alive.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Night had descended upon the forest and still Vincent walked on despite the severe drop in temperature. The shroud of darkness didn’t seem to hinder the gunman at all while he trudged through the calf deep snow.  Every now and then, he glimpsed the glowing eyes of nocturnal animals as they darted through the trees and out of sight. Although the beasts, small and big, didn’t seem to mind his presence, they still avoided him at all costs. Whether it was out of fear, or respect, was relatively unknown and didn’t matter to the ex-Turk. 

Out of the corner of his eye, the raven-haired man spotted something amiss. He turned and headed in that specific direction until he realized what he had spotted was a trail of assorted, obviously human footprints. The prints looked relatively freshly made and by the look of it, they had been done by a large group of people. Normally, he would have shrugged and turned away, but the unmistakable sight of blood in the snow halted him in his tracks. It looked to him like someone had been dragging a bleeding body, most likely human, through the snow. It was difficult to ascertain whether or not the body had been alive while it had been dragged like a trash bag. As he followed the blood trail, he became even more certain by the abundant amount of blood lost, that whoever had been injured, could not have possibly survived.

Whatever the case, he would follow for now and investigate what he suspected was most likely foul play. As soon as this was all sorted out, he would be able to return to his solitude hopefully without further disturbances. A part of him felt reluctant to proceed not because he was unwilling to help, but because this would be the first time in decades he has come across another living person. He feared that meeting another person might knock him back into the real world, might make him itch to live again. But most of all, it might shatter his self-made delusion that Lucrecia’s son was alive and well. In his mind, Sephiroth was alive and as long as the ex-Turk remained alone in the forest, the boy would stay in the land of the living. Logically, he knew without a doubt that Sephiroth was truly dead and gone; however, a part of him couldn’t, wouldn’t believe such a thing. As long as he wandered the wilderness alone and untouched, he could bask in his own anguish and obsession without end. As long as he dwelled here alone, nothing would change, and no one would die. Sephiroth would live through him forever in this place, without pain and without death. Vincent would bear the full brunt of the pain and cast away the death that clawed and nipped at their heels.

In this place, within the heart of the forest, pulsed a dark, captivating energy that drew him again and again without fail. Maybe that was why he wandered so much…because he was searching, seeking something lost to him. Was he looking for Sephiroth? No, such a feat was surely impossible since the boy was dead, his life wasted by heartless, worthless scum. Ah, there it was, again. His rationality reminding him of something he didn’t want to know, refused to accept. The other part of himself refuted such a claim since it believed Sephiroth still breathed life. That part of himself, more beast than man, was strongly fueled by such a belief.

Nostrils flared and teeth gritted, he propelled himself forward to stalk the tracks like a predator tracking potential prey. Whoever had dared stain his forest with their filth, no, _their_ forest, would pay.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

It was well past midnight, or so Vincent figured, when he had finally reached the end of the tracks and blood. Said tracks and blood led right into the narrow opening of a well-disguised cave. Had he not been led straight to the cave by the tracks, he might have missed the cave entirely. Frowning, he wondered why they even bothered to hide the entrance when their tracks were so blatantly displayed. It didn’t make much sense to him, but then again, people tended to discard common sense in favor for something less useful. Perhaps these people, whoever they were, had been in a hurry to get here and didn’t have time to hide their tracks. Whatever the reason was, he was certain he would find out soon enough.

Gingerly and quietly pushing aside the camofluage, he squeezed himself through the tight opening and was relieved when he realized that once inside, the passage was much larger. Straightening his long body to his full height, he glanced around curiously, noting the lighted lanterns adorning the walls.  The place was pretty clean and smooth for a simple cave, and seemed to lead straight towards a larger chamber bearing ten-feet tall double doors. As he crept forward, his eyes scanning methodically for anything that might be a trap or a trigger. As he walked, he noted the strange symbols carefully and neatly drawn on the walls along with images of what looked like a woman. Something about it seemed eerily familiar to him, but he couldn’t place it at the moment.

Once the gunman had reached the double doors, he lightly touched the wood with his right hand and was surprised when it felt unnaturally warm to the touch. His hand dropped down to one of the bronze door handles, noting that it was just as warm as the door itself. He could even make out the faint sound of noise through the door, but couldn’t place what was happening on the other side. Whatever it was, it had to be very loud to be heard through such thick, heavy doors. Exhaling deeply, he slowly heaved the heavy door open until the opening was large enough for him to slip inside. The sounds of screaming and moaning slams into him along with the scent of blood, death, and sex. He was frozen in shock for several long moments as he gawked at the horrific scene before him in the large chamber. By sheer will, he forced himself to slip into the chamber, closing the door behind him before he stood stock still, observing the event as he gripped the gun in his hand at his side.

Like the passage, the chamber was illuminated by numerous lanterns lining the walls of the massive room. The first thing that drew Vincent’s gaze was what was located in the center of the chamber. At the center of the room was a dais with a gigantic alabaster white statue of a hauntingly beautiful woman with her arms raised to the heavens and her face staring down at the dais. Her eyes were made out of what looked like aquamarine colored crystal Materia. Light shown down from their depths, casting a brilliant, eerie light all around the dais. Upon the dais was a stone slab that looked like it could be something like a sacrificial table. On said table was the naked, smooth body of a fit, yet pale-skinned man. His muscular arms were bound together over his head, chained into the stone by a stake so tightly he probably couldn’t move much. Each ankle had its own manacle clasped to them and a chain that kept his long, muscular legs spread wide apart. The chains appeared to fall down over the slab, with each chain attached to a ring embedded in the dais. Long, beautiful hair spilled all around him like a halo and down over the sides of the table like a waterfall of liquid silver.

Vincent felt goosebumps prickle his skin when he recognized just who it was chained to the table, or at least, who he _suspected_ it was. He couldn’t tell if the man was awake from this distance, but he could tell that he wasn’t moving a muscle. Dead or alive, he also couldn’t deign from how far away he was at the moment. From here, it looked like… _wait_ …was it…? It couldn’t be? Could it…? To his blood-colored eyes, it looked like…

 _Sephiroth_.

The dark-haired gunman felt his chest constrict painfully at this undeniable realization as he stared transfixed at the sight of the unmoving man chained to the block. Deep in his heart of hearts, he felt this was his Sephiroth. This was no clone. He had to be the real deal…just had to be. How he knew such a thing, Vincent didn’t know for certain. Somehow, he just knew.

**_Don’t be stupid, Host. Are you blind? Can you not see what’s going on all around you? Snap out of it…_ **

Vincent ignored Chaos’ growling voice in favor of striding forward towards the object of his obsession. All he could think about was getting to him and freeing him from his chains. He wasn’t dead, no, he couldn’t be. He was very much alive, he knew. The ex-Turk would take him in his arms and carry him away from this wretched, desolate place. He would take him home and protect him from the whole world. No one would know Sephiroth was alive and no one would dare harm him ever again. His Sephiroth would be safe with him from now on, for all times.

“Have you come to pay tribute, young man?” Purred the voice of an older woman who had stepped out of nowhere to block the gunman’s direct path. The woman, who looked to be in her sixties, was tall and slim, though she was a bitch hunched over as she leaned on her simple black, very worn cane. Her short, cropped ivory white hair stood out starkly against her tanned, weathered and wrinkled skin. The woman was obviously blind due to the milky color of her unfocused brown eyes that stared right past Vincent. Both gnarled looking hands, even the one that gripped her cane, slightly shook as she stood gazing at nothing in particular. The expression on her face was eerily serene, like the face of someone who had finally glimpsed god, or something akin to it. Something about _that_ particular look reminded him of the remnants, the three child-like Sephiroth clones he couldn’t remember the names of. Something about this old crone wasn’t quite right; it was as if she were possessed by some entity, or perhaps she was just a crazy, old bat.

“Pay tribute to _what_ exactly?” Asked Vincent, his voice rough and impatient. He winced when a particularly loud scream pierced the air followed by the gurgling sounds of someone choking on their own blood. Alarmed, he finally realized what was going on all around the dais. He had been so focused on Sephiroth that he had completely missed the chaotic, repulsive things that were occurring all around them. All around him, men and women were being murdered _and_ raped. He watched as a woman brutally gutted a bound man, her dagger tearing from his sternum down to his groin while right beside them, another man was forcing himself on a petite, teenaged girl that begged desperately for him to stop while she jerked wildly at her bloodied chains. Hot tears streamed down her dirty, blood-streaked face as she wailed from her torment and agony. There was even two men holding down another man while he was viciously sodomized by a laughing woman that wore a strap-on. Said man would have been screaming or begging mercy from every violent plunge into his bleeding, split rectum had there not been an engorged piece of flesh being repeatedly rammed down his raw, bleeding throat and lips.

Not everyone seemed to be raping or getting raped by someone since several men and women seemed to be copulating with willing partners. One woman was eagerly bouncing up and down on a willing man’s cock, her head thrown back in raptured delight as sweat beaded upon her nude, female form. As she rode him for all that he was worth, she leaned over and wrapped her hands around his thick neck. Her long, slender fingers tightened considerably around his neck until he gasped frantically for air. Though he was being asphyxiated, that didn’t stop him from continuing to buck his hips up into her wet, tight heat. His large hands gripped her hips with enough force to heavily bruise her as he forced her down again and again on his enflamed, thrusting penis. Eventually his movements slowed down until he stopped moving entirely. Whether he had simply passed out or had died, Vincent could not ascertain. 

There were some people flat out murdering or torturing others in whatever way they pleased. A group of people were busy kicking someone to death while a man was viciously bashing another man’s head in with a rock until there was nothing left of his face or skull except for the grotesque, mangled mess of brain matter, bone fragments, flesh, and blood.

Horrified and enraged, Vincent tore his eyes away to glare balefully at the old woman. His trigger finger itched to shoot almost every single person in this room. “What the fuck…is going on here?”

The old crone raised one hand towards that of the massive statue of a woman. Her smile was wide and unnerving as she deliriously exclaimed, “Why, the rebirth of our lady Goddess, of course. We, The Reverent…are all paying Tribute to Her glory…in our own way. Do not be alarmed, young man, for this…is the way. Those who appease Her will… surely will be Blessed. We are a family…we are servants to a higher power, to the One that can save us all from ourselves and from this despicable world. Without Her, we are lost. Don’t you see? Other non-believers claimed that She was a calamity…HA! But they are nothing but blasphemers with little understanding! She is no calamity, but a Goddess, a divine ruler sent from the heavens to end our plight, and to begin anew in a better world. On this night, before the sun rises, She will be Reborn into the world from the seed of Her devoted Son…”

“The Reverent?” Repeated the gunman more to himself, not liking this new bit of information one bit. It wasn’t hard for him to conclude that this Reverent cult were avid followers of Jenova. Where they came from, and how they came to be, he did not know. All he knew for certain was that he was going to put a stop to this sickening freak show. No longer able to stand idly by, he raised Cerberus and began shooting away at anyone he deemed an offender. The first to die was the man raping the teenager then the group raping the man. His bullets cracked in the air like lightning; the explosive sound of the gun echoed throughout the chamber as bullets rained down upon flesh. Oddly enough, despite the loud gunshots and the increasing number of fresh corpses that piled up, most of the Reverent didn’t seem to notice what was going on.

**_Yes…yes, Host, kill them all. Make them pay..._ **

“Yes, kill them all…it matters not. They all belong to Her, in life and death. You are doing them a kindness by returning them to Her Grace. All that matters is the Vessel and the Son,” cackled the old crone as she turned to the short, hooded being that had been standing beside her with his or her head bowed submissively. Reaching out, the white-haired woman ripped the robes away, revealing the svelte, naked form of a beautiful young woman. The blonde woman kept her head bowed and didn’t utter a sound as if she awaited an order. The elderly female clasped a young, slim shoulder in her knobby hand as if to reassure her. Gently, she commanded, “It is time, Vessel. Go perform your Duty to our Goddess. Within you, She will surely grow and blossom into the Divine being She is meant to be. This honor has been bestowed upon you…so do not fail us, girl.”

With a simple nod, the young woman turned away and began walking over the bodies of the dead. She didn’t appear to mind as she stepped on the cooling, congealing blood of the deceased. Her glassy green eyes remained focused ahead of her, on the still form of Sephiroth as she approached the dais.

The few remaining Reverent followers and their victims watched in unified awe as the naked woman neared the dais. She was so close now, almost close enough to be bathed in the gleaming light of the Goddess statue…

“I have waited over forty years for this, you will not ruin this!” Bellowed the blind, old woman once she somehow realized that Vincent had stalked after the blonde woman. She wobbled after him, frequently tripping over bodies in hot pursuit. Despite her old bones and stiff joints, she stubbornly forced her injured body up each time to follow after the storming gunman. “You can’t enter, young man! If you do, you will anger the spirit! It needs only the Vessel! You cannot disrupt the ritual!”

“I have waited even longer than that…for him,” growled Vincent without looking at the crone, his rage contorting his normally impassive visage. The closer the blonde girl got to _his_ Sephiroth, the more enraged he became by the second. His crimson eyes were flecked with gold, increasing in golden hue until every part of his irises were glowing a bright amber through the dimly lit chamber. His voice was more beast than man as he declared, “He does not belong to her, to you…to anyone. Sephiroth belongs to me…and _only_ to me…”

Before the blonde female could touch the light, Vincent reached out and grabbed a fistful of her thick, wavy hair with his golden claws. He yanked her backwards with enough force to send her tumbling behind him, rolling until her body slammed unceremoniously against a corpse. His instinct had been to shoot her dead, but some small, lingering part of himself had stopped himself just in time. Easily forgetting about the young woman, the ex-Turk focused his attention back on the seemingly unconscious man. His moves were quick and precise as he leaped up onto the dais. The green light around the dais shimmered brightly before shifting to a blood red color that bathed both forms of the males upon the dais.

“ **No…NO, NO, NO… _NO_!** ” Shrieked the elderly woman while she crumpled down onto her knees, her agonized face buried in her shaking hands.

Some unseen force surrounded Vincent, attempting to possess him, only to be shoved back by the bristling, territorial demons that snarled savagely at the spirit in warning. Desperately seeking refuge, the spirit turned away and headed directly into the closest available body: Sephiroth’s. As the spirit plunged into the still form of the silver-haired man, Sephiroth’s torso suddenly jerked upwards, his body straining against the chains. A fragmented, tormented howl tore through the man as his eyes snapped open, revealing the hazy, disorientated jade hues that stared unblinkingly up in confusion at the statue of Jenova, his Mother…

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

 


	2. Desecration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inside the chamber of the Revenant, Vincent meets and makes a deal with an ancient being, which ultimately leads him to do something that had previously been beyond his nature.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for graphic non/dub-con, mentions of death, and some dark themes.

_Italics_ speech is Orthrus

 ** _Bold Italics_** speech is Chaos

 

Whatever Vincent had been expecting, it had not been a naked Sephiroth bound onto a slab by some deranged, cultist fools in a ritualistic, sacrificial chamber. Although he had told himself countless times that his Sephiroth was not dead, he was still frozen in shock at seeing those mesmerizing eyes again. Before he could move a muscle to aid the panicking, weakened silver-haired man who struggled against his chains, a silky voice whispered all around Vincent, but the strangest thing of all, was that the genderless voice sounded like it was also _inside_ of his head.

_My, aren’t you an interesting one…_

Alarmed, Vincent raised Cerberus as he glanced around quickly, trying to pinpoint just where the voice originated from. Though he saw no one but those crazy cultists, he kept his weapon raised and steady.  “I don’t know who you are...and I don’t care, but I highly suggest that you come out… _now_ …”

_I’m afraid I cannot do that, human. I like it in here. It’s…nice and cozy, and I have friends here. What an unexpected surprise…to see such old friends again after so long…and in a human, no less. How…interesting…_

“You’re…inside me?” Asked the baffled gunman as he lowered his three-barreled weapon.

_That is correct, human._

“How can that be?”

_Oh, I have my ways. I am older than most…have existed since before any of the demons inside of you. While they are bound by that…ProtoMateria, is it? Yes, I think that’s the correct term for it. As I was saying, while they are bound by it, I am not. I can do whatever I wish…with your body…_

With narrowed eyes and pale lips drawn in a tight line, Vincent gripped his gun hard enough to crush bone and clenched his teeth hard. He wasn’t exactly buying what he had just been told by whatever this being was. He wouldn’t assume anything, but it was very likely that whatever this thing was, it was a demon, or some other kind of spirit.

_Don’t believe me? Fine, I will prove it, if I must…_

Vincent’s left hand shot out faster than the eye could see, smacking him hard across his face. Stunned, he watched as his own left arm reached down and trailed golden claws against the smooth, pale flesh of Sephiroth’s thigh in a teasing caress. The claw trailed up the thigh higher until it met hip. It then skirted dangerously close to the ex-General’s groin, fingertips nearly touching the curly, silver pubic hair. Despite his confusion at the situation coupled by his desperation to gain freedom, Sephiroth didn’t seem all that aware of the intimate touch to his person.

“Stop! Stop that!” Snapped Vincent, fighting hard to regain full control of his body once more. Though it was his own body, he didn’t like the fact that another being was using him to touch what was rightfully, absolutely _his_. “What do you want?”

_Now we are getting somewhere, human. Should we begin with introductions? I tire of calling you human. Do you have a name, or will human suffice?_

“Vincent,” reluctantly uttered the gunman, who was relieved that he had regained full control of his arm, even if it was only temporary.

_Vincent. Such an old name for an old soul. It suits you. As for me, I have many names…but you may call me Orthrus..._

“What do you want with me… _Orthrus_ …” Vincent inquired, his blood red orbs fixed on the thrashing form of Lucrecia’s son.

_Not much. Just your soul…_

“…”

_I was merely jesting, Vincent. What I want is simple, really. I need a physical form and I rather like yours…not to mention, there’s something intriguing about you...which tempts me enough to offer you a deal…_

“If you can assume control, why bother trying to strike up a deal with me…?” Pointed out the suspicious gunman, who still wondered how much was truth and how much was fabrication _._ After all, he knew that if Chaos could assume total control of Vincent’s body, he would gladly do it without hesitation.

_Sharp one, you are. If you must know, I can only take control without your permission for a short while…because of this Materia, my Materia… that’s surrounding us…from the eyes of that statue. As long as you remain in the light, I can exist within you…or within **him**.  If you do not take my deal…I will make you do unspeakable things to your…heh, Beloved. Or…I can possess him and take full control of his body. But I would rather be a part of you, like your other demons that reside inside of you…if you are willing to allow me to be. What say you, mortal?_

Vincent felt his blood freeze, which caused him to nearly drop Cerberus. Shaking his head, he sighed, “Do I really have a choice…”

_There are always choices, Vincent. Sometimes…there are no good choices, but there are always choices. There is no question about that, but the question here is…what choice will you make?_

“Fine, I will take your deal,” grudgingly spoke the gunman, his blood still feeling cold and dead in his body. Lowering his gun, he holstered it since there was no enemy in sight at the moment. “What’s going on here? There’s such depravity…and talk about some divine woman. Are they talking about Jenova?”

_These humans are delusional, that is for certain. I have never heard of Jenova, so I could not tell you. From what I have gathered, they lured me here with their little, depraved rituals of sex, rape, torture, and death. Truthfully, a nice orgy would have been enough for me. I may be a primal demon, but I am not like Chaos. I do not feed off of mayhem and destruction like he does…_

“What do they hope to gain from this?” Vincent asked as he locked eyes with the furious younger man jerking against his chains. He could see blood leaking down from the metal cuffs clenched around the ex-General’s wrists, which forced him to pin both of Sephiroth’s arms down so that he couldn’t injure himself further.

_Tch…something absurd, no doubt. They wanted me to possess the bound human here and use his body to fuck some human girl with some spirit inside of her. Who, I don’t know what, perhaps this Jenova person; whatever the case may be, this spirit is now in your Beloved and my, is she is angry, heh heh. It seems to me that this divine being you speak of, is the one they hope to have reborn with her spirit imbued in the child, born from a human using the seed of demon and…unnatural human. Your Beloved is not completely human…_

“Would that…have worked?” Slowly asked the gunman, keeping his hold tight on the arms of the squirming man. There was so much wrath and hatred in those green eyes, it made his stomach clench in countless knots that twisted like agitated snakes. He wanted to see the eyes from his photograph again, not _this_ …this warped, spiteful creature before him.

_Tch, who knows. These humans are clearly insane. The only thing I know for sure is that he would have been sacrificed right after. I would have **consumed** him…_

”You will not harm him,” growled Vincent, his eyes thin, angry slits. He wasn’t exactly certain who he was talking to, Jenova, or Orthrus. Maybe both. Either way, he was determined to protect the boy that no one else had ever bothered to protect. Lucrecia had failed as a mother by allowing Hojo to harm Sephiroth for the sake of science. For years, he had made excuses for her because he loved her. He had been blind for so long, but no longer. The gunman knew he wasn’t exactly innocent, either. Though he had once stood up for the unborn child and the mother, he had given up not long after his… _transformation_. He had failed before, but that was then. Now he was determined to protect Sephiroth, to never fail him again. Unlike Vincent, Lucrecia had done absolutely nothing to protect her own son. It wasn’t until he was born that she seemed to start giving a damn about her own child. Out of kindness, he had once told her Sephiroth had died. He knew now that he should have told her the truth because she **deserved** to _know_. Lucrecia deserved to suffer…just like he had, and continued to. Whatever love he had once held for this woman was slipping away through his fingers like water only to be replaced by love for her son. For _his_ Sephiroth.

_As long as that spirit resides inside of him, he will never be yours. Perhaps…hurting him…will drive her away. If you want him so much, then claim him. If you cannot, I will do it for you…_

“I don’t want him to suffer anymore. There has to be another way to get rid of that bitch,” said the gunman, who shook his head in denial.

_Oh? Have another idea, do you? I don’t think you do. Like I said, if you want him, you must claim him. Dominate him, make him submit…in any way you can, not just physically. He is used to having a master…so be his master. Until you hold the reins, that spirit will be his driving force. She will continue to own him, bend him to her will. Vincent, you must break that chain by forging your own..._

“And what if that doesn’t work?”

_It will._

“How do you know that?” Asked the frustrated ex-Turk as he glared at nothing in particular. It took him a few moments to realize that the younger male was no longer struggling. Glancing down, he noticed the glowing cat-like jade eyes were fixed intently on him and lips were drawn into a smirk.

“Hearing voices, are you, hm?” Mocked Sephiroth, a knowing gleam in his unhinged eyes.

_I see. You leave me little choice…you know that? I will not force you to do anything…but I will give you…a little **push** …_

A strange sort of sensation tingled against Vincent’s skin and inside of his body as if it flowed through the life force that was his very blood. Every cell in his body sang with a bizarre sort of energy that invigorated him, made him feel more alive than he had felt in ages. Every instinct seemed to awaken inside of him, swirling around in his tormented mind as if it were teasing him. Urges he had once thought long dead, arose within him with such staggering force he had to release Sephiroth’s arms in favor of gripping the edge of the slab to steady his shaking body. His breathing was coarse and labored as he gritted his teeth together and screwed his eyes shut. Sweat beaded on his forehead, sticking his hair to his face and neck while the perspiration dripped down and landed on the sacrificial table. He panted harshly, hands scrabbling at the stone nearly hard enough to break his own nails. Though his body had broken out in an unnatural cold sweat, he felt an intense, agonizing heat that ruptured through his body from the inside, threatening to burst out. A familiar heat convoluted inside of his body, which brought life to his celibate manhood. To his abject horror and bewilderment, he felt his erection painfully straining against the leather of his pants as desire cleaved through his being without mercy. Eyes still closed, he gasped, trying to even his breathing and calm himself down from whatever ailed him. Unnatural compulsions were firing away inside of his mind, causing his flesh to want things he normally would never want.

“How are those friends of yours? Still suffering? Are they still alive…or are they…nothing but a _memory…_ ” Goaded Sephiroth, his sensual-looking lips pulled back in a nasty sneer. He seemed to mistake Vincent’s state of mind and body for something else entirely and wasn’t aware of what was exactly going on. In fact, he seemed to arrogantly believe that his biting, cruel words were getting to the gunman completely.

The smirk faded from the madman’s face the moment Vincent’s inhuman eyes locked with his own green orbs. White irises with slit-like pupils, stood out starkly against the now completely black sclera. The strange, demonic-looking eyes stared down intently at the silver-haired ex-General in such a way that made the younger man’s skin crawl as he removed the glove from his right hand. A deep, rough voice quietly suggested, “You…should be more concerned about _yourself_ …” And then with a few quick, swipes of his golden claw, the chains that bound the ex-General’s arms and legs, were effortlessly shattered. Even the cuffs broke apart, freeing the younger man from the cold, unforgiving metal that had recently cut open his flesh, though his wounds seemed to quickly knit back together flesh and skin. Before the man could dare move a muscle, Vincent grabbed him by the ankle and jerked him over until his long, powerful legs dangled from the edge of the slab. His golden claw grabbed the green-eyed man by the neck as he leaned over him, their faces inches apart. “…and what I’m about to do to you…”

“ _You will do nothing_ ,” hissed Sephiroth, his hands anchored to the one arm that pinned him down by the neck. Because the arm was in a golden gauntlet with deadly talon-like fingers, he couldn’t exactly scratch or harm him effectively. Still, that didn’t stop him from attempting to pull the arm free from his neck, to no avail. No matter how hard he yanked and bucked under the gunman, the arm wouldn’t budge. Eyes filled with unrelenting rage, he screamed out his rage and frustration. Try as he might, his magic, his power was lost to him for whatever reasons. Every time he tried to draw from his own magic, something unidentifiable blocked him. Unfortunately for Sephiroth, he was about as helpless as a babe since the destructive power of his _Mother_ was now useless to him. He could feel her spirit inside of him, shrieking with uninhibited rage because some human fool was restraining them, preventing her from becoming whole again. In spite of his fealty to her and the fact that she pretty much controlled his body most of the time, a part of him felt unmoved by her plight.

“Yes… _scream_ for me, Sephiroth. Before this is over…I will own you, you will be _mine_ ,” Vincent purred darkly, his right hand running down over corded muscle sheathed by smooth, unblemished skin. The blunt nails of his now gloveless right hand bit into skin, causing welts to rise in its wake as he dragged his nails down against the tempting skin until he reached the younger man’s half-erect dick. Taking him roughly in hand, he pumped Sephiroth’s well-endowed cock until the writhing man is fully erect and leaking profusely. Eyes trained on the ex-General’s face, he watched his face closely while he thumbed the slit, which caused the younger male to buck his hips from the stimulation.

“Release me! Get your filthy hands off of me,” snarled Sephiroth, his eyes thin slits and teeth bared. Even though his body was obviously aroused by Vincent’s rough treatment, his mentality was against the forced pleasure. He relaxed slightly when the hand released his cock; however, the moment he heard the unmistakable sound of a zipper, he froze on the spot, glowing eyes wide with disbelief. While he could barely breathe from the claw wrapped around his neck like a vice, that didn’t stop him from renewing his struggle to gain freedom. The moment he started thrashing violently again, he was swiftly jerked away from the slab, flipped around and shoved down bent over the table. The movement was so fast he didn’t even have time to brace himself before his face smashed against the stone. The claw now gripped the back of his neck, effectively pinning him down without mercy. Palms flat against the table and feet against the floor, he used all the strength he could muster to shove back against the other man in an effort to dislodge him from his person. That plan backfired badly on him, though, since all it served to do was press his ass against the unmistakable erection of another man. All struggles ceased the moment he felt that thick, twitching organ against the crease of his ass, treacherously close to where his anus lay hidden.

Bent over the pinned lunatic, Vincent ground his hips against that firm rear, his dickhead rubbing insistently against the other man’s twitching orifice. As he licked the shell of Sephiroth’s ear, his voice rumbled, “Want it that bad, do you…”

Sephiroth, or Jenova, Vincent didn’t know for sure, made one last ditch effort to reason with him. “This isn’t supposed to happen, not like this…this is wrong…I am supposed to be reborn, you fool! All you are doing is wasting precious time! What do you hope to accomplish from this foolish endeavor?”

“Everything that means something to me,” answered Vincent as he buried his nose in the younger male’s long, silver hair and inhaled deeply, breathing in the undeniable scent of _his_ Sephiroth.

“And that would be…? Tell me and I will give it to you _if_ you bring my vessel to me…”

**_She’s trying to trick you, Host. Do not fall for it. Orthrus is right. You know what you must do…_ **

The ex-Turk glared down at the crown of gunmetal hair as if he could see the calamity herself through him. “Sephiroth. You’re possessing him and I want you out. He is no longer yours for the taking. He’s mine…”

“You want my son that badly? Fine, you can have him… _after_ he has carried out his purpose, of course,” offered Jenova, her voice mirrored by the sound of the deranged laughter of the ex-General.

Vincent laughed mirthlessly, “You mean to kill him…after you’re done using him. I will not allow this…and I will _never_ allow you to be reborn. Your time is over, and you’re done using him. He’s **mine** now and I’m taking him back whether you like it or not…”

“How do you hope to accomplish that? What makes you think I will willingly leave?” Scoffed Jenova, who barely contained the anger and desperation that clung to her spirit like a bad odor that refused to dissipate.

The gunman leaned back, hand still gripping the back of Sephiroth’s neck as he kicked said man’s legs wider apart. Taking his erection in hand, he bent his body over the prostrate form of the younger male, aligning himself just right for what was to come. Voice low and rough, he growled, “By _taking_ him…” And then plunged every single inch of his enflamed organ into the tight, resisting muscle that spasmed wildly and attempted to push him out with no success. He didn’t stop even when he felt the blood or even the pained groans that escaped those cruel, yet beautiful lips. With every brutal thrust, he felt the contracting rectum take more of him in until he filled the man beneath him to the root. It was unbearably tight, yet unbelievably good to the point that Vincent nearly prematurely came at that moment. Remaining still for a few minutes as he panted, reigning in his control, his right hand groped around until it came in contact with a very turgid, aroused cock that dripped copious amounts of pre-ejaculation onto the ground. Somewhat surprised by this, he wrapped his fingers around Sephiroth’s manhood, once more rubbing the slit with his thumb, which earned him the younger male bucking wildly underneath him. Groaning in bliss, Vincent pulled out almost completely before slamming back inside, the blood serving to be enough of a lubricant to ease the way for him.

“Enjoying yourself?” Teased the raven-haired man while he roughly stroked the heavy, twitching organ cradled in his hand.

Sephiroth viciously spat out, “Shut the fuck up, you son of a— _ohhhhh godsss_ …”

With a sharp snap of his hips, Vincent had the ex-General crying out in a mixture of anguished pain and pleasure. Even though the silver-haired man writhed and moaned underneath the gunman, apparently enjoying his own rape to some degree, Vincent knew better than to release his unrelenting hold on the man’s neck. His thrusts into the squirming body became shaky and slow when he finally realized just exactly what he was doing to the person that he loved most in the world. His white eyes welled up with moisture, which resulted in a lone tear streaking down his pale cheek. Horror and self-loathing bred themselves inside of his mind until the soothing voice of Orthrus filled his mind, urging him on.

_You’re doing fine, Vincent. Keep going…you’re nearly there. He will forgive you, love you, be yours…you just need to completely claim him…_

Remembering his cause and spurred on by the demon’s silky voice, Vincent released Sephiroth’s neck in favor of gripping the man’s hips with both hands.  Whether or not the ex-General realized his neck was free was uncertain since all he did was moan and cry incoherently, his hands scrabbling uselessly against the stone helplessly as he was ruthlessly pounded into from behind. His cries increased in pitch the harder and faster Vincent slammed into him, every thrust harder than the previous one. Any thoughts of escaping or fighting back against the dark-haired man were lost to Sephiroth due to the indescribable feeling of being dominated so ruthlessly and so completely to the point pure euphoria overrode all pain and shame. With a scream loud enough to shatter glass, he erupted against his own stomach, his semen splashing against his belly, chest, the table, and the floor. The red light bathing them shuttered violently, pulsing with power until the Materia in the statue’s eyes shattered completely, raining down all around the coupling males in streaks of flashing, crimson light unannounced by both men.

Closing his eyes, the gunman imagined his favorite picture of Sephiroth, which caused him to recall the way the young man’s eyes had looked in the picture. So beautiful and full of life, without hatred and insanity. He imagined Sephiroth on his back with his legs wrapped around Vincent’s waist as the gunman took him passionately, green eyes gazing up at him with so much feeling and emotion that it _hurt_. Fucking Sephiroth with fervor now, the images of adoring, gorgeous eyes brimmed full of untainted emotion coupled with the tight, slick heat of Sephiroth’s ass were enough to finally undo him. With a few more rough, jerky thrusts into the ex-General’s wrecked orifice, he came moaning Sephiroth’s name and thrusted erratically until he had filled the now unconscious, younger male’s abused passage with every drop of his seed as though he marked him from the inside out.

 

 ~*~*~*~*~*~

 

In spite of his earlier hesitations and misgivings, Vincent was strangely calm and at peace while he tucked himself away and zipped up his pants. His eyes had even regained their usual crimson irises and white sclera as he gingerly cleaned the sleeping ex-General of any and all remaining bodily fluids. Once he was finished, he managed to find some discarded pants, boots, shirt, and even a few cloaks. Dressing the younger man quickly, but carefully, he made sure that the man was bundled up enough so that he wouldn’t freeze in the frigid, remorseless weather. Despite Sephiroth being superhuman and nearly indestructible, Vincent didn’t want to chance the man getting sick or being affected by the harsh weather at all. Once he was satisfied that his Sephiroth would be protected from the elements, he picked up said man, carrying him in his arms like a bride as he stepped down from the dais.

The gunman paused a moment when he noticed the elderly woman from before, crumpled lifelessly on the ground beside the blonde girl that had been dubbed _vessel_. He stared at them blankly for a moment before glancing slowly around the eerily silent chamber. Every single body was still and unmoving on the ground in graceless heaps of corpses, of wasted life. It was clear to him at that moment that everyone here was dead now, yet _how_ they had died remained unclear to him. It didn’t really matter in the end, though, since all that really mattered to him now was the man in his arms. With a deep sigh and a shake of his head, he stepped over numerous bodies until he had successfully exited the chamber and the connecting passageway that led to the outside world, which was bright and sunny outside despite the severe drop in temperature and the grim, dark atmosphere of the cave of the Revenant.

As soon as the piercing, harsh wind whirled around them, the sleeping silver-haired man shivered and clung as closely as he possibly could to the warmth offered to him. Vincent flipped and tucked a good portion of his jacket over and around Sephiroth to protect him from the freezing wind. He smiled faintly at the sight of the youthful face burying itself into his chest, away from the bitter wind.  

Boots crunching in the ice, Vincent’s undeniably possessive and obsessive thoughts were full of Sephiroth and what the future would hold for them both as he trekked back to his home, no _their_ home. He didn’t know if Jenova still resided inside of Sephiroth or not, but he was determined to be rid of her once and for all. Nothing and no one would take his Sephiroth from him and he would do whatever it took to keep the man with him, always. Even if he had to keep Sephiroth bound and chained to something for all eternity, he would do it to keep the man he loved with him, for always. Sephiroth belonged to him now and nothing would change that, not even death itself.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~ 


	3. Dominion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, last update was in October. Sorry for the long wait and hope you guys, especially Sid, enjoy this chapter. There should be at least two more chapters after this one, and the next one should come out a lot sooner this time.
> 
> Warning for Non/Dub-Con sex. Don't like, don't read. You have been warned in the tags and in this A/N.

_Italics_ speech is Orthrus

 ** _Bold Italics_** speech is Chaos

 

While the freshly bathed and bound Sephiroth slept in Vincent’s bed, the gunman spent several hours preparing his house for his… _guest_. Before he had brought Sephiroth here, he had not really cared about the state of his dwelling nor did he often use his generators. Now that his beloved was here, the urgent need to clean, fix, and tidy up the place for the younger male drove him to work nonstop for several hours. The first thing he did was check the generators before turning one on to power the entire house. The other ones were only there as a backup power source just in case the main one broke down or there was a need for extra power. Though he preferred the darkness these days, he would not force the ex-General to tolerate it unless it was what he desired.

Every speck of dust was wiped and brushed away along with the many cobwebs that had littered countless places in the house. Anything broken, he either repaired or tossed out to be burned or thrown away when deemed unfixable or useless. Every room was painstakingly scrubbed clean from the floors, the walls, the windows, the doors, and even to the ceiling. Whenever he finished a room, if it had a window, he would open it and keep it open for a few hours to air out the stale air and the strong scent of chemicals. There had been a moment he had recalled an old memory of his childhood. A memory he had long ago forgotten until the smell of the cleaning chemicals reminded him of his days as a small child when his mother would clean their house with his reluctant assistance. His woman had been a hard, meticulous worker and had forced him to clean the same spot repeatedly until she was satisfied with his work. Although Vincent couldn’t remember her face anymore, or even his father’s, he still remembered what they had both been like in life. Staring down at the rag he clutched, he gripped it tightly in his hand for a few minutes before dropping it back in the bucket of soapy water. Taking in the spotless room, he felt at that moment that his mother would have been proud of his hard work.

Now and then, Vincent would stop what he was doing to check on the status of the sleeping ex-Soldier. The man was fully healed by now, at least physically, but that didn’t mean the gunman wasn’t still concerned about his overall condition. Not to mention, the last thing he needed at the moment was Sephiroth waking up, breaking his bonds, and sneaking out. Though somehow, he doubted it would play out that way. Sephiroth would slice off his own legs before attempting to escape from this place. No, the first thing that beautiful, deranged man would probably do was find and attempt to kill Vincent. This particular train of thought caused the raven-haired male to chuckle lowly to himself.

Fortunately for the ex-Turk, Sephiroth remained unconscious the entire time he worked inside and outside of the house. Once he had completed all his cleaning tasks, he next prepared a meal that would take around an hour to cook in the oven, which meant he could preoccupy his time with other things in the meantime.  It occurred to him after checking on Sephiroth for the umpteenth time that the man was in dire need of clothes. Luckily for Vincent, he had some spare clothes that were loose on him, which meant the clothes would definitely fit the larger man. Since Sephiroth was only a couple inches or so taller than Vincent, the length of the shirts and pants wouldn’t be much of an issue, if at all. If the gunman had been Cid’s or Cloud’s height, then the ex-General would have been forced to prance around naked. Not that Vincent would have minded… _that_.

The majority of his clothes had been packed away in some manner and had mostly been kept in boxes in the attic for nearly twenty years, more or less. Because of this, they bore a stale, musty odor and some even had several holes in them due to hungry moths, no doubt. After throwing some suitable clothes for Sephiroth into the washing machine, Vincent then took a quick shower and changed into a simple crimson long-sleeved shirt and black slacks that he usually wore when he had no intentions of leaving his home. After slipping on the shirt, he turned to stare thoughtfully at the pale man sprawled out on his bed like a great feast. The swordsman had somehow managed to once again knock the sheets off from his body while he had been showering. Sighing, Vincent silently strode over to him and gingerly tucked the sheets back around his Sephiroth’s long form. Though it only took a few seconds to accomplish that, the moment he looked at the younger man’s face, he noticed the lucid malachite eyes that bore mercilessly into him. He could tell that the ex-General was sizing him up, analyzing the situation he was in, and no doubt planning his next move. The gunman almost smirked when he noticed the silver-haired man looking up and frowning at the manacles that were currently chaining him to the headboard of the large bed.

“Good morning, Sephiroth, or should I say, _evening_. I have some clothes for you that are being washed as we speak, but should be done soon enough. If you behave, you get to wear them at dinner. If you fail to behave…you will go naked…like an animal,” began Vincent, though it was mostly in jest as he gestured to the clearly nude state that the ex-General was in. Because the younger male kicked off the sheet, which displayed his nudity once again, he had to suppress the urge to climb onto the bed to ravish him. The gunman quietly exhaled deeply while he shrugged as if this didn’t affect him in the slightest. Hot pinpricks of desire spread throughout his body, like a virus bent on conquering him.  “Remember what I said. I’ll be back shortly…”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Nearly an hour later, Vincent returned with a fresh set of neatly folded, still warm, and completely dried clothes in hand. It had taken him a ridiculous amount of time to calm down, to will his lust away before he could return to his Sephiroth. Chaos, Orthrus, and the other demons had been surprisingly quiet, which surprised him because Chaos seemed to enjoy taunting him whenever he was presented with an opportunity. As chatty as Orthrus had been at first, the gunman suspected this particular demon was the type that spoke only when it had something significant to say. It was a primal demon, after all, or at least, had claimed to be. This in turn, caused him to wonder if perhaps the reason for the disturbingly strong, impulsive sexual desires was because of Orthrus’ direct influence. Or maybe that was just what the ex-Turk wanted to believe. If he were being completely truthful to himself, then he would admit that those desires for Sephiroth had been already brewing under the surface for the many years he’d obsessed over the man. It was easier for him to deny, to push everything and everyone away than to deal with what he knew to be true. The past had never been something he had dealt with well, or to be bluntly honest, at all. He had spent around thirty years in a coffin, stewing in the old, painful memories as punishment or what he called _atonement_ , for his Sin.  In reality, he had atoned for nothing at all. Sleeping for a few decades while his love suffered at the hands of Hojo and others, was not atonement. He had done nothing, had atoned for nothing, and in the end, it had cost him everything. Instead of dealing with his past, he had simply given up and had allowed more atrocities to occur while he slept obliviously to the troubles of the world and of his beloved. If Vincent had truly meant to atone, he would have helped Sephiroth long _before_ he had lost his mind to anguish, lies, and madness.

And yet, after all of _that_ , he was **still** running away, hiding away, albeit in a bigger coffin, so to speak. After all, he lived alone deep in the wilderness, in the middle of nowhere, with no contact with his friends or anyone else for the matter. No one living knew where he was, or if he was even still alive. Until now. Now he was no longer alone, had Sephiroth in his house and under his direct care. Who’s to say he wouldn’t screw this up, too? He had failed many times before, had failed Sephiroth, so what was stopping him now? Nothing. He would fail his Sephiroth, would hurt him again…lose him again…

_Do not fret so, Vincent. I will not allow you to hurt that divine man…unless he deserves it. You will not fail him. Not this time…_

Relief. Vincent felt relief splash down over him at the words whispered, a dark promise only he could hear. Why he felt it, he did not truly know. Perhaps it was because he had direction once more, like when he had been young, growing up under his father’s care. His father had never allowed him to run away, or give up, but he had allowed Vincent to walk his own path, to make his own choices in life. Maybe that’s why he felt such relief now. There was a strong, formidable presence _within_ him, directing him with a firm hand, yet not forcing him to do anything. Orthrus was definitely influencing him, guiding him, but was not forcing him to do anything that he didn’t already intend to do.

_I like him. He pleases you, and he pleases me. Together, we will protect him, cherish him…and own him. That entity inside of him—_

“—She’s…still there?” Asked Vincent out loud, temporarily forgetting that Sephiroth was still in his presence, staring at him with narrowed, suspicious eyes.

_Careful, Vincent. He cannot hear me, but he can still hear you. But yes, she is still there, I feel it. The war is far from over…yet worry not. We will win. He has tasted a small sample of what we have to offer…and he wants more…_

This caused Vincent to fix his gaze on the silent, naked man sitting cross-legged with his back propped up against the headboard of the bed. Intelligence and thankfully lucidity, shone brightly in the glowing, cat-like eyes that watched the gunman’s every movement and expression ( _not that Vincent was displaying much anyway_ ) very carefully. It was obvious to the ex-Turk that though Sephiroth was sane at the moment, he was biding his time, looking for any weakness in Vincent to exploit. For a born and raised Soldier, Sephiroth certainly was a stealthy, tricky one. Had he been given the chance, he would have undoubtedly made an exceptional, deadly Turk. Not that it mattered, either way, since just like the Soldiers, the Turks had been mere tools used by Shinra to attain and hoard power.  

Without taking his eyes off of the ex-General, Vincent carefully placed the bundle of clean, dry clothing on the end of the bed. He then stepped back, like an animal trainer wary of spooking a wild animal, until he had put a suitable amount of distance between them. He hung back in wait until he noticed that the younger man kept glancing down at something specific. When crimson eyes followed the other’s gaze, he realized the man was pointing out that he was currently tied up and unable to completely dress himself. Frowning slightly, Vincent picked up the clothes and edged closer until he had walked around the bed to the side without getting close enough to be kicked. The entire time, he had warily eyed those long, muscled unbound legs. He knew he should have tied his ankles to the bed, too, but realistically he knew dressing Sephiroth with all four limbs tied would have been next to impossible. He dropped the bundle of clothes right down next to the younger male’s side as he fished out Cerberus and kept it aimed at the ex-General’s head at point blank range. With his other hand, he fished out the key and quickly unlocked Sephiroth’s bonds. Keeping the gun trained on the green-eyed man, he took a few steps back to give the man some space. He felt a smidgeon of guilt wash over him when Sephiroth rolled his sore shoulders and arms as he rubbed at the red imprints that temporarily marred the pale skin of his wrists.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” slowly warned Vincent while he continued to watch the ex-Soldier through cautious, burning eyes. Though he could tell that Sephiroth was still weak and nowhere near his full strength, he wasn’t fool enough to risk underestimating the weakened ex-General. It was only a matter of time before the younger male regained his full strength, which might have to result in him using his demons to put a stop to him, for good. Until then, he would have to figure out a plan to fully control the ex-Soldier to prevent such a thing.

_You don’t have much time, Vincent. The boy needs to be broken **now** before he regains his strength. You need to own him completely before the entity within him takes back full control of his body. She sleeps now, but not for long…_

Vincent frowned, not quite understanding just what the demon expected him to do. Though he had once been a Turk in his old life and knew how to torture people, he wasn’t quite certain what Orthrus wanted him to do in this situation. Did he expect him to beat Sephiroth, to torture him? The gunman didn’t believe he could do such things to the one he cherished above all else. He had never been able to bring himself to hurt the ones he loved; however, what he had done to Sephiroth back at the Temple of the Revenant was still vividly fresh on his mind, grinding viciously into his eyes without mercy. The guilt over it alone was almost enough to tempt him to end his pathetic, worthless existence. But he couldn’t. Not now. Not when Sephiroth was alive again and in his care.

_At the temple, you did not break him. The entity within owns him…so this means you must take him from her. He must rely on you, turn to you…exist for you. Whatever it may take, you must do._

It was at that moment Vincent heard a distinctive laugh in his head, one he had grown to know pretty well over the many years. It grated his nerves just hearing the mocking laughter of the demon Chaos echoing inside his head. Even in his isolation, he was never truly alone. These demons within him were always there, in the back of his mind, lurking. Although they existed within his body, he still felt starkly, pathetically alone.

**_Host…just do to him what that woman did to you….you know…take away his balls…_ **

“No,” growled Vincent, his teeth clenched, eyebrows drawn together, and eyes narrowed. If Chaos had his own body and stood right before him, he would have punched him hard in the mouth. He knew if the demon had control right now, he would undoubtedly do horrible things to Sephiroth and every other life in his path. As familiar as this demonic entity was to Vincent, he never dared forget how destructive that thing was if given the chance.

For the first time since he had awoken, Sephiroth spoke, his voice hoarse from disuse. Watching the ex-Turk carefully, he inquired, “No what?”

“Nothing,” Murmured Vincent, who noticed the other man had yet to even lift a finger to touch the offered garments. Staring pointedly at the clothes, he looked back at the silver-haired man and was surprised to find a hint of a smile on those sensual lips. He stared at those lips for a few moments longer than he should have before he realized what he was doing. Feeling both awkward and old, he said, “You should get dressed now. Dinner will get cold.”

Without a word, Sephiroth scooted over to the edge of the bed to drop his legs over until his bare, elegant feet touched the cold floor. He then rose from the bed to his full towering height, standing in all his naked glory in front of Vincent as if this was a common occurrence between them. With a sweep of his arm, he said, “By all means, Valentine, lead the way.”

“You’re not getting dressed,” deadpanned Vincent, who felt both aroused and annoyed by the other man’s blatant stubbornness. It was obvious to him that Sephiroth was toying with him, of course. Whatever this game was, he was dead set on not playing it. Sighing, he turned and strode away, leading the other man to the dining room. “Very well…”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

As Vincent led the way to the dining room, he listened carefully to the slow, yet elegant footsteps echoing behind him, each step precise and graceful almost like a stalking wildcat’s. He’s half tempted to look over his shoulder at him to not only make sure he’s behaving, but to stare at the corded, smooth muscles that he was certain rippled with each supple movement. He found it difficult to focus his thoughts and control his actions in Sephiroth’s presence, especially since not too long ago, he had taken his pleasure from that marvelous body. Remembering the event made him feel conflicted since part of him reveled in it and the other part of him felt disgust at what he had done to someone most precious to him. He can’t help thinking that several years ago, he would never have sunk so low to force himself on another being, especially one he cherished. In his many years of isolation, brooding in the dark and obsessing over the dead, he seemed to have gradually transformed into someone else, something else. Someone he barely recognizes, barely knows. He was a stranger to himself now even though his face was the same, his body was the same. If his past self, especially his young Turk self, could see him now in the state he was in, he knew he would be utterly repulsed by the beast, the monstrosity that he had unwittingly changed into. As disgusted as part of him was, he knew there was no going back now. What was done, was done, and nothing could be altered in this time, in this place. All that Vincent could do now was attempt to cling to the remnants of his past self while he took care of Lucrecia’s son, her possibly _still_ insane son. At that thought, his hand clenched around the gun he still clutched just in case he must use it as a **last** resort, of course. Another part of him, the dark, obsessive part of himself, refused to accept such an idea, however, and felt if his Beloved one did tumble back into insanity, he would just keep him chained and locked up for all time.

Once in the dimly lit dining room, Vincent gestured towards the table where only a few candles provided barely enough light though in truth both of them didn’t have a problem seeing in the dark, especially Sephiroth with his glowing Mako eyes. He stood patiently, waiting for Sephiroth to sit at one end, and when the man didn’t move, he looked at him inquisitively. “Something the matter?”

Something akin to a smirk tugged at the corners of that sinful mouth before Sephiroth slowly shook his head and strode over to sit down naked in a chair at the table without taking his eyes off from the gunman. The way he watched Vincent was like that of a predator waiting for any sign of weakness before it would pounce and kill its prey.

Vincent might be imagining it, but something about the way the younger man moved seemed slower and almost seductive, _almost_. Nobody moved like that by accident, which led him to believe that Sephiroth was indeed trying to provoke him, or distract him. Or both. Either way, the naked ex-General was clearly trying to manipulate him to accomplish a specific outcome. Old files had described Sephiroth as highly intelligent, analytical in nature and definitely a strategic fighter. He seemed that way now, quite lucid actually, but it seemed like to him that he was waiting for something, perhaps to make his move. What the ex-Turk felt certain of was that he was being tested by the younger man. What that test was, he didn’t know; however, he felt the man remaining silent and in the nude, was part of that test.

 _ **He is testing your patience, mine, too…**_ Came Chaos’ annoyed growl that seemed to vibrate in Vincent’s cob-webbed mind.

Frowning, the gunman ignored the demon as he slowly seated himself on the other side of the table, which gave him a clear view of the silver-haired man. He kept his gun on his lap just in case he needed to quickly draw it. Chaos, like the other demons within him, usually remained dormant unless summoned specifically. It wasn’t until he had discovered The Revenant temple not long ago, that the demon had decided to come out of hibernation. Chaos thrived on conflict, mayhem, and death; he was always itching to burst free to destroy whatever and whoever he could, but Vincent almost always kept a tight leash on him except for those rare occasions when Vincent lost control over his own body. What had happened at that temple, especially with Sephiroth, had excited the demon enough to remain awake most of the time. Or perhaps it had something to do with the primal demon, Orthrus, that now resided within him. Unlike the other demons, Orthrus _chose_ to stay within him, to be a part of him and didn’t seem bent on gaining control over Vincent’s body, though he had exerted control over him to provoke him into breaking Jenova/Sephiroth.

_**You should kill the boy before he kills you, Host. As much as I would enjoy watching you die, hearing you gasp out in your death throes…it would not benefit me if your body was destroyed. Or maybe it would…** _

_Do not listen to that little whelp, Vincent. He would have you destroy the world…and everything in it. A beast only kills what it needs to survive; a monster only kills for the sheer pleasure of it. It would be unwise to poison the very water you drink, to kill off all the beasts that you eat. He does not know or understand the concept of physical beings since he lacks his own physical body. It may have been a long time for me since I last took a physical form, but I still remember it, even if just barely…_

“Hearing voices, are we?” Taunted Sephiroth, his normally smooth baritone gravelly from a long period of disuse. His glowing malachite eyes are locked on the gunman, but he is not smirking.

“You would know, wouldn’t you,” said Vincent, just barely catching what the younger man had just said due to his own distraction. He gripped the gun on his lap out of frustration because the demons seemed hell bent on driving him insane. After many years of silence and isolation in this place, it felt disorientating and strange to have another person in front of him _and_ his normally latent demons talking within his mind. It also felt odd to actually take the time to sit down at the table eating in a house that was not a filthy mess of dirt, dust, and cob webs.

Sephiroth slowly cocked his head at that, his face now a smooth, stoic mask that seemed to greatly resemble the nonchalant expression of a statue. Both of his hands remained presumably in his lap as he continued to regard the crimson-eyed man.

“You should eat,” advised Vincent, suddenly worried the moment he realized how gaunt and tired the younger man looked. He had failed to notice it before, but from what he could now see, the other man’s skin appeared ashen, stretched tightly over bones that were starting to jut out grotesquely, and a significant portion of his musculature had diminished most likely from disuse and malnourishment. It made him wonder exactly how long those crazed cultists had held Sephiroth captive and if they had even bothered to properly feed the man. By the looks of it, he had been starved enough to keep him weak so that he’d be easier to manage, no doubt. The thought, no the evidence before him, caused him to grit his teeth and clench both of his hands in barely contained rage that caused Chaos to laugh and Orthrus to sigh. He didn’t even notice when the claw holding his wine glass suddenly shattered the glass, causing red liquid and glass fragments to splatter down all over his own untouched plate of food. Why he hadn’t noticed Sephiroth’s degraded state before, he didn’t know, but it certainly explained why the enhanced man was as weak as he appeared.

The silver-haired ex-Soldier said nothing, only continued to stare, his eyes still vibrant despite his fatigue and the pitiable state of his neglected body. His eyes narrowed a fraction when he witnessed Vincent crushing his glass in his golden claw, clearly noting the mounting anger in the older man.

Vincent felt like he was on trial as he sat there staring back at those intelligent, cunning eyes that seemed to closely watch his every movement as if the younger man didn’t trust him. The gunman couldn’t blame Sephiroth for being wary and dubious of him; after all, if Vincent himself was in his position, he knew he wouldn’t trust him, either. Especially…after the vile act he’d forced upon the bound man on that wretched temple. As sickening and angry as remembering what he had done made the ex-Turk feel, a part of him reveled in the act itself and that only made him want to dig his own claw into his chest, to tear apart flesh and to break bone until he could finally latch onto that black, pathetic excuse for a heart and crush it until he was dead. That is, _if_ he could die from such a thing. Being a manmade monster, he was barely human, a husk of a man bursting full of the spirits of demons, _and_ his own personal demons, his sins. Because of what he was, what he had ultimately become, there was no guarantee that such a thing would kill him even if it _should_ kill him. After all, as much as he would love to, he couldn’t pin _all_ the blame on Hojo.

“You need to eat,” repeated Vincent, his voice more firm and unyielding as if this is not a suggestion. In a way, it wasn’t. If the man didn’t eat, he would surely die and the gunman wasn’t about to allow that. If he had to force-feed him himself every single day, he would do it without hesitation.

The ex-General said nothing, just stared for several long minutes before he decided to lean back in the chair and cross his arms loosely over his chest. His sensual lips, now dry and cracking, curved into a ghost of a smile. “What if I do not want to eat? What then?”

“Then I will shove it down your throat,” growled Vincent, his ire increased when the defiant man had the audacity to smirk at him while still playing whatever ridiculous game he was orchestrating.

“Yes…you’re quite good at that, aren’t you? Shoving things in _holes_ , I mean,” mocked Sephiroth, his words dripping with dark innuendo as if he were implying something about Vincent’s part at the Temple of the Revenant. He suddenly looked bone tired and his usually vibrant eyes seemed duller, as well. It was almost like peering into the eyes of a dead man.

The gunman clenched his jaw, teeth grinding together to prevent himself from spitting out something nasty as a retort. If it had been anyone else, he would have snapped them in half with his words in two seconds; however, but this wasn’t just anyone, and he could tell that something was very wrong with the younger man. When he felt he had better control of himself, he carefully said, “Be that as it may…you need to eat. You need sustenance to survive.”

“What if I don’t want to survive?” Prompted Sephiroth, his words sounding as hollow as his eyes now looked.

Feeling alarmed by what his own eyes were now showing him, Vincent pushed up from the table to stand, his forgotten gun falling to the ground with a loud clatter. “Don’t say that…you don’t mean that…”

“I do. You should pick up that gun and shoot me right between the eyes. It’s what the world wants…it’s what I want. End this now…I tire of this endless dance…this trivial game of cat and mouse. If that little blond friend of yours was alive today, he would have killed me already,” said Sephiroth while he continued to calmly regard the ex-Turk with deadened eyes.

Vincent frowned at that. Was Cloud dead? His brain couldn’t remember no matter how hard he tried to wrack his memory. He knew some of his old friends were dead, like Cid, but it’d been such a long time since he’d last seen or heard about any of his old friends. This was entirely his fault, of course, since he was the one who had decided to isolate himself from his own friends and from the world. He never thought he’d feel anything again, especially not lust or love, until that moment he had discovered the bound man on that sacrificial table. It had opened a floodgate of unwelcomed emotions and feelings that had tumbled out of him leading him to this moment in time. While he still didn’t want to return to civilization, he didn’t want to be alone anymore. He wanted Sephiroth with him, by his side, for all time and found he no longer cared if the man was willing or not. Vincent would make him stay, would make him see that this is where he was meant to be, that they were meant to be together for as long as each threw breath, perhaps longer even.

Slamming his hand and claw hard down against the table, the ex-Turk’s blood-colored eyes glared at Sephiroth with conviction that burned deeply within their depths. “Even if Cloud were here, I would not let him kill you. I would kill him before he dared harm you, Sephiroth. Your life…is precious...I will not let it fade…I will not let you go…”

For the first time, something other than fatigue or indifference appeared on his normally stoic face. It was shock, he was surprised by what he had heard come out of the gunman’s mouth. Suddenly barking out a laugh, he exclaimed, “You would kill your own friend for me? That’s strange…considering you helped him hunt me down…helped him kill me…and now you claim you would fight for me? And they say I am the crazy one…”

“I would burn the world to keep you safe,” declared Vincent, who felt surprised not by what he had said, but by the utter truth of the declaration. Many people tended to claim they’d rope a moon or a star for someone, or many other nonsensible exaggerations, but he felt deep within his core that he meant every word. Killing people didn’t bring him pleasure, never had, yet he’d done his fair share of killing as a Turk and an ex-Turk. The raven-haired man was a damned man no matter what anyone said, no matter what he did, so what was another ten lives? A hundred? Or even a thousand? If it meant keeping Sephiroth safe, he would gladly do it. After all, he had failed him _and_ Lucrecia in the past. Vincent was determined never to make that mistake ever again.

“Why?” Asked the silver-haired man with a frown that was nearly a pout, his silver eyebrows drawn together, which made him resemble his dead mother enough to give Vincent slight pause.

Slowly walking around the table, the gunman stopped when there was merely a foot and a half of space between them. Looking down at the naked man, he said, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you why, but you will, in time. First, you need to eat, to get better. This is not a suggestion or open for discussion. You will eat, Sephiroth.”

Sephiroth slowly leaned over, his shoulders shaking as laughter bubbled out of his throat and mouth until he was laughing loudly and manically. It was the type of bone-chilling laughter Cloud and company had been used to hearing during all those times chasing after the madman. When he looked up through unruly silver hair, his eyes were bright again and his full lips drawn wide in a familiar smirk. It was the demeanor of the post-Jenova Sephiroth, which angered and alarmed Vincent enough to take a step back.

Jenova’s disembodied voice, mingled with Sephiroth’s, sneered, “You ruined everything, you know. This worthless vessel was supposed to sire a new body for me to be reborn in, but…you dared to be an interloper. Because of your audacity, I am stuck inside of this wretched _failure_ of a puppet. To think this _disgrace_ failed multiple times to kill some pathetic, weak human—“

Before Vincent could stop himself, he had backhanded Sephiroth’s face hard, causing the man’s head to snap away, almost causing him to fly out of the chair. Blood dribbled down from the younger man’s split lip and chin as he slowly raised his head to look up the seething gunman.

Jenova sighed, “Strike a nerve, did I? Feel something for this boy, do you? I remember you…fucking his body, which by extension is also my body. I own him, you do not. You can defile him as much as you want, but that doesn’t make him yours. He’s mine, even if he is a failure…”

_Don’t listen to her, she lies. He wants you. Even now, he craves your touch, longs to belong to you, body and soul…_

“If he is such a failure, leave him already,” growled Vincent as his fingers and claw curled, hormones pumping wildly throughout his body. He felt like a beast in rut ready to take on any male to win the right to take his mate.

“And die? I don’t think so, you fool. As long as he draws breath, I live. As long as my cells are inside him, I control him,” spat the calamity, feeling enjoyed though she enjoyed toying with the dark-haired human.

_That will change. She’s already lost some control and she will lose more until she is gone. You know what to do…_

As if sensing Vincent’s intentions, the possessed man leapt up from the table, shoved Vincent away and lunged for the gun on the ground. A claw snapped forward, grabbing fistfuls of long, silver hair and violently wrenching the man backwards. He slammed him against the table, temporarily knocking the wind out of the dazed man. Claw still twisted in long, gunmetal colored locks, Vincent yanked Sephiroth off from the table and forcibly dragged him over to the chair. Sitting down in Sephiroth’s chair, Vincent jerked the man down onto his lap. His claw untangled itself from the silver hair to lock around the man’s long, strong neck hard enough to cause him to rasp, but still able to breathe somewhat. His human hand clamped down on a narrow hip, keeping him locked against him as he ground his clothed erection against the man’s naked ass. Mouth hovering near Sephiroth’s ear, hot breath puffed, “Going to stick around to watch me fuck him? His body is just _begging_ for it. I know he wants it, but do you? Perhaps that is why you stay…you secretly like it, too…”

Visibly enraged, the desperate calamity renewed her struggle to gain freedom despite the claw that dangerously gripped her neck. She didn’t seem to care how much damage this body took just as long as she gained her freedom and avoided the unwanted assault on what she considered to be her body. The claw around her throat lessened it’s hold enough to slide down to roughly pinch and roll a nipple until it was reddened and erect from his ministrations. The heaving chest pressed against the cold metal of his golden claw, back arching as the formally limp cock between Sephiroth’s legs began hardening. A hot mouth bit and suckled at Sephiroth’s neck, causing him to involuntarily tilt his head to give Vincent more access to his pale neck. Despite the pleasurable sensations, Sephiroth still squirmed and attempted to pry the vice-like arms from his body, but to no avail. Unwilling to experience the travesty from the temple again, Jenova quickly disappeared into the darkness to shield herself from the undesirable event for the time being.

“I’m going to fuck you…in this chair…and then, then you’re going to eat,” growled Vincent, his voice low and husky from arousal. His claw raked down over the younger man’s chest and abdominals hard enough to cause welts, but not to break the skin, until it latched onto the other naked hip. His dick throbbed painfully in his pants as it rubbed against a muscular bottom, more than eager to gain freedom from its confines so that it could bury itself in something hot and tight.

“No, no…just kill me already. Stop this,” groaned the ex-General in spite of his own enflamed cock. His hands clawed at the hand and claw anchored to his hips, half-heartedly attempting to remove them from his person and failing miserably as he panted from both arousal and exertion. His struggling unwittingly caused his body to writhe against the one plastered against him, which resulted in more friction between them. “Don’t…stop, stop…”

Quickly losing his patience, Vincent leaned forward before forcing Sephiroth to bend over the table with his legs spread. He kept his claw against Sephiroth’s back, pinning him down, and his thigh between the younger man’s legs to keep them open. The gunman dipped his hand into a small tub of olive oil butter, spreading it all over his fingers before he slipped his hand between tense cheeks to prod at the puckered orifice. His fingers rubbed teasingly against the shuddering entrance before pushing in slowly, one at a time until three fingers were knuckle deep inside, stretching him for something much larger.

Although he fought the intrusion, Sephiroth couldn’t help bucking against those fingers whenever he felt them rub deliciously against his prostate. Clawing at the table, he felt a heady mix of both fury and excitement at being manhandled in such an undignified way. With every stab against his sweet spot, he hissed and moaned, his trapped dick leaking against his stomach and the table.

Unzipping his pants and tugging out his own dick, Vincent quickly coated it with the butter before he sat back down in the chair, forcing the taller man to sit back in his lap again. Lifting and bending one of Sephiroth’s legs, he positioned himself just right before he guided the head of his erection into the other man’s convulsing, yet loosened and slickened portal. Breathing deeply, Vincent used the claw on Sephiroth’s hip to force him down, effectively impaling the wriggling younger man on his dick as he thrusted up into his spasming body. He grunted at the sheer pleasure of finally being inside the other man again, this time without an audience and in a place that wasn’t a muddled mess of death and despair. Sephiroth’s grunts and moans, whether from pain or pleasure, or perhaps both, were heaven to his ears as he jabbed up into that divine body repeatedly with every roll of his slim hips. Pressing his clothed chest against Sephiroth’s naked back, he heatedly whispered, “I know you want this…you enjoy this…”

Sephiroth’s reply was a low groan, his face flushed and eyes fully dilated as he bounced up and down on the older man’s lap, mostly due to the hands on his hips manipulating the jerky movement. With every slam against his prostate, he cried out from the ecstasy, head jerking back and all his nerves on fire as he was mercilessly fucked, unaware of the tears leaking from his own squeezed shut eyes. His hands clung in a death grip to the hands anchored to his hips, no longer attempting to pry them from his body. Between the wrung out, pleasured moans, he repeated like a mantra, “Kill me…kill me…just kill me…”

With every deep, hard stroke into his convulsing body, Vincent grunted, “Never…I will never kill you, I can’t…I won’t…” And then a hand suddenly unlatched from Sephiroth’s hip and hold to wrap long, nimble fingers around a neglected, weeping cock. The moment his hand made contact with the younger man’s manhood, Sephiroth’s back bowed as he erupted, his mouth open and screaming in unrestrained euphoria, all thoughts of death and anguish lost in the darkness.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~


End file.
